The Evolution of Ashley Magnus
by talkofcake
Summary: UPDATE: CHAPTER TWO! In the aftermath of her paternal discovery and rising conflicts between her mother and her, Ashley runs away and begins to discover that perhaps her 'killer instincts' aren't the only things she's inherited from her father.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Evolution of Ashley Magnus

Author: talkofcake (loveandbullets)

Rating: K+ (for mild violence and language)

Category: action, angst

Spoilers: all the episodes (and webisodes) currently to date; the rest is speculation.

Summary: In the aftermath of her paternal discovery and rising conflicts between her mother and her, Ashley runs away and begins to discover that perhaps her 'killer instincts' aren't the only things she's inherited from her father.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be a dirt poor college student sitting in front of my computer screen, now would I?

A/N: This fic was inspired by an epic dream I had. Thanks to my friends list for encouraging me to put it down in words. A huge thanks to ellymelly for all of her wonderful suggestions and corrections.

The Evolution of Ashley Magnus

By talkofcake

* * * * *

Chapter One

Numbness engorged her body. She didn't feel anything as the emotions attempting to invade her blistered away, leaving her with a vast expanse of nothing.

She liked it that way. Anyone else in her position may have cried, may have blown up in a fury at the people around them, may have known nothing else to do but wallow in self-pity until their head hit the pillow night after night, and even then be haunted then by their remorse in sleep. But Ashley Magnus beat the crap out of things. That was her way of feeling the things she didn't feel and experiencing emotions she wouldn't let herself experience. As her fists collided with the ferocious creature in front of her, she was unbeatable, impenetrable, and resilient. However, with each punch, the inevitable gradually slipped its way past the barriers of her mind and into her heart.

The tenacity and aggression she was fighting with at that very moment—the heartless instinct always to kill the threat in her path—they weren't traits derived from years of discipline and training.

No.

These skills were a constant reminder that she was the offspring of a serial killer, a frightening fact she'd come to know just two days ago.

Sweat trickled down her brow, followed by the mist from the ocean outside. The sound of waves crashing in and out of the cavern was empowering, but her trained ears knew to listen for even the slightest noise that would alert her of her opponent's whereabouts.

Blood seeped from cuts and scratches on the exposed skin of her face, her knuckles were bruised, and by the pain coursing through her with each breath she heaved, she figured she'd broken a rib or two.

An arm swooped out of the darkness as the creature came out of its camouflaged hiding. Giant claws broke through her skin, followed by a blow to her back which sent her falling to the Earth, her breath completely dispelled from her. Upon contact with the ground, she felt her shoulder dislocate. Her mouth gaped, but she resisted the urge to cry out in pain.

She peered into the darkness and caught a relieving glimmer of gold several feet away. Ashley rolled then scrambled towards the object and grasped her gun in hand, quickly lifting it up with her good arm and aiming at the dark haze coming her way. She fired off five rounds in a row, paused and then emptied her magazine when the creature's velocity increased.

The sound of gunfire was followed by the high-pitched clink of shells scattering over the rocky ground, resonating throughout the cavern. The black haze became a tangible body which squealed as her bullets penetrated its grimy exterior. Defeated, it crumpled over and landed atop Ashley. She heaved the creature off of her and laid there, spent of all her energy. Sweat seeped into her open cuts and mingled with blood, causing her to grimace from the sting.

It was then, after the fight and amidst the pain of the sharp rocks bearing into her body from underneath, that Ashley Magnus cried. Her echoing sobs were heard by none other than the caverns around her who could not relay her moment of weakness to the world above.

* * * * *

"Glad to see you're back!" Will called out to the retreating form of his blonde coworker as she made her way towards her room. "Your mom was worried sick," he explained amid a jog. When he finally caught up with her, she had entered her room. "I—"

Will jumped, staring at a slammed door.

"Ashley?" he asked quietly, knocking. "Is everything alright?"

When there was no answer, he turned the handle and warily peered into the dark room. He made out her silhouette in the moonlight, standing in front of the large, barren window.

"Ashley?" he repeated quietly.

"You'd think slamming a door in your face would give you a hint," she mumbled.

He gave a quick chuckle before entering the room. "Locking it would have given me a better hint, but then I've never been able to read people very well," he joked, his degree in criminal psychology a definite testament to his lie.

There was a long moment of silence and he wistfully wished she'd say something but alas, she seemed perfectly content with ignoring him until he decided it best to leave—no doubt her intention.

He took a breath and dared to try again. "Mission not go well?"

"It wasn't a mission."

"Right, you just risk your life for fun, I forgot."

"Will, would you just get the hell out of here…"

He wasn't about to. He knew there was something wrong and wished she would talk about it. She had a lot on her shoulders, with just discovering that the father she thought died long ago was actually a teleporting serial killer who was very much alive.

He came up beside her, making his way cautiously in unfamiliar territory with nothing but the moonlight to guide his way. At one point, he nearly tripped over her gear that she'd sloppily discarded in the middle of the floor.

"You sure get a nice view," was the lame comment he managed from her side, gazing out of the bay window and across the nightlights of the New City.

"Yeah," she murmured.

He glanced over at her and did a double take, instantly greeted by the bruising and cuts across her cheek. She sensed his alarm and instantly turned away.

"Like I said, you should go."

"What happened to you?" he pressed.

"I told you before. I went to kick some monster asses."

"Well, no offense," he continued, following her as she made her way across the room, "but it looks like you got your own ass kicked in the process."

She said nothing, only flicked on a lamp and bent over to pick up her gear and unpack. As soon as she stooped down, pain surged throughout her abdomen, crawling up her chest and into her arm. She doubled over with a groan.

"Hey, easy!" Will exclaimed. He settled his hands onto her arms and guided her to her bed despite her attempts to thwart him off.

"I'm fine!" she said stubbornly.

"No, I don't think you are. Look at you," he said.

He could make out her appearance better in the dim light from the lamp next to her bed. Her face was black and blue and covered in cuts and scratches, some of them pretty deep by the looks of it. She cradled her right arm which Will assumed was broken.

"You really need to have your mom take a look at you."

"What are you nuts?" she cried. "My mom? My mom would freak out, you know that. Plus…"

Ashley trailed off, though Will could guess how that sentence was supposed to end. Standing in front of her, he watched as bitterness flashed over her face at the mention of her mother. While he understood why Helen had chosen to withhold the truth about Ashley's father from her, it was only natural that Ashley couldn't see past the hurt and betrayal. Time could achieve a lot, but Will had a feeling the relationship between mother and daughter would be a bit rocky and riddled with conflict.

"Hey," she said, glancing up at him. "Just don't tell her about me, okay? I can get myself fixed up. I'm a big girl," she said, trying to smile.

Will reluctantly nodded.

She slowly stood up, cringing and pushed Will away when he attempted to help her. "Now, I'm going to take my clothes off so if you want to stay for that…"

"Uh, no…" Will said, a slight blush forming at the base of his neck. He made his way towards the door as Ashley began to unzip her jacket. "And hey?"

"Yeah?"

"Really though, if you want to talk about what you're going through, just let me know. I'm good at listening."

She laughed a little, but stopped as pain flooded through her stomach. "I don't talk. I don't cry. And I certainly don't need a shoulder to lean on, alright?"

"Right," Will said, hand against the doorframe as he nodded. "Well…feel better."

"Thanks, doc," she said sarcastically, peeling off her jacket and cringing when the leather stuck to a flesh wound on her right shoulder.

Will exited and shut the door behind him, shaking his head as he walked down the long hallway. While Ashley was most-likely pondering what traits her father had given her, he couldn't help but smile at the resemblance of personality between mother and daughter. Although Helen's obstinacy was masked by more feminine and refined traits, she had no doubt passed her strong sense of independent self and reserved emotions to her daughter.

Confronting a Magnus about personal things was harder than capturing an elusive abnormal, Will mused.

* *

Ashley made her way towards the shower and started up the hot water, testing its temperature with her hand. When she was sure it was scalding enough, she finished undressing and looked at her appearance in the mirror. She'd never admit it but Will was beyond right. She looked like complete crap. From her scratched up, discolored face to her bruised stomach and gouged shoulder—she looked like she'd been to hell and back.

And maybe she had. The thought crossed her mind when she stepped under the spray and instantly bit her lip to keep from crying as the water cascaded over her beaten body and danced into her open wounds. She was pretty sure that if there even was a hell, where she was right now was close enough.

She leaned her head against the glass wall and stood there for several minutes, wishing that the hot water would scald away everything, however cliché that thought was.

As the steam encompassed her and the water became so hot she lost the feeling in her skin, Ashley felt an emotion rise within her belly that she'd been unable to identify before that moment. She'd often felt it during a mission, when someone's life was in danger at the hand of the enemy. During those times her mind would often drift to the things that made her the most angry, so that way, every time her fist collided with a jaw or a stomach or the bullets from her gun penetrated flesh, she'd slowly melt away that anger.

This time as the anger was rising inside of her, her eyes shot open. It was deeper than anger, much deeper. She'd repressed it for so long that it took her a moment to realize it was hatred. Slowly, she felt her body and mind, even her heart succumbing to its power.

Numbness engorged her body and frightened her with its peace.

* *

Hope you're enjoying this so far! Chapter two will be up shortly. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Evolution of Ashley Magnus

Author: talkofcake/loveandbullets

Rating: K+ (for mild violence and language)

Category: action, angst

Spoilers: all the episodes (and webisodes) currently to date; the rest is speculation.

Summary: In the aftermath of her paternal discovery and rising conflicts between her mother and her, Ashley runs away and begins to discover that perhaps her 'killer instincts' aren't the only things she's inherited from her father.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be a dirt poor college student sitting in front of my computer screen, now would I?

A/N: This fic was inspired by an epic dream I had. Thanks to my friends list for encouraging me to put it down in words.

The Evolution of Ashley Magnus

By talkofcake/loveandbullets

* * * * *

Chapter Two

Helen Magnus exuded power. It wasn't her intention to, but one could figure that after 157 years of existence, carrying a commanding, dignified presence in whatever you did was not merely happenstance.

She was also a force with which one would not wish to reckon. The click of her heels and the briskness of her walk matched a fiery and determined face headed towards Will, and he wanted nothing more than to duck into the corner and be unseen.

"Hi," he said, lowering his book and trying to smile at her.

She was not amused, not the least bit. Her cheeks grew red with frustration and she looked like she was about to bubble over.

"Ashley is here," she said, voice low and abrupt.

"I know."

"And _that_ is the problem," she sneered.

Will would never admit it aloud (for fear of his life), but the sound of an upset Brit was actually quite comical to his ears.

"Why in the world didn't you tell me as soon as you found out she was here, Will? I had to hear it from Henry who heard it from Bigfoot who overheard you and Ashley talking earlier this evening!" she exclaimed.

She placed her hands on the ledge of his desk and leaned her weight towards him, eyeing him closely and so coldly he swore he could feel the temperature drop in the room. It sent a chill up his spine.

"She…she didn't really want you to know," he said meekly, and even he wasn't convinced by his lame attempt at an excuse.

"Well, of course not! She's _Ashley_! Do you even know how worried I was about that girl? She's wild and unbridled, out of control as it is, but who even knows what kind of mess she's capable of getting herself into in the state she's in!" she said, her voice now several octaves higher than normal.

She huffed, paced back and forth in front of his desk twice, then exasperated, sat down in the chair across from him and crossed one leg over the other.

"Have you talked to her yet?" he asked.

"No. She's in the shower," Helen said. She laced her fingers together and set her hands in her lap, and by the internal struggle easily read on her face, Will guessed that she was attempting to collect herself. It was rare that one had a chance to witness Helen Magnus lose her temper. He wasn't sure that being a rare statistic in this case made him feel at all lucky.

"I should probably warn you that…" Will's voice trailed off. He gulped, not sure if he'd rather be on Helen or Ashley's bad side. Helen could fire him and Ashley could kill him, but then again, Helen could kill him, cut up his remains, and serve him to her pets if motivated.

"What?" she snapped, looking up suddenly. "Is Ashley alright?"

"It depends on your definition of 'alright'," he murmured.

"Being vague with me right now is not a good idea."

"She's just sort of got her ass kicked," Will continued hesitantly. "Said she didn't want you to know though."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" Helen cried. "How bad is it? Is she seriously injured?"

Will clamped his mouth shut, imagining two Magnuses cornering him in a dark room with no witnesses to his impending death.

"She's not in good shape, no," he said, wincing.

"Oh my God!" Helen stood up and abruptly made her way for the door. She glanced back at Will—glared back, actually—before exiting his office in a hurry, with no doubt in Will's mind where the woman was headed.

* *

Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have knocked, but knowing that Ashley might just be getting out of the shower, despite her anger, she decided to give her a bit of dignity.

Two knocks and nothing. One more and a muffled 'go away' was heard behind the closed door.

"Ashley, are you decent?" Helen asked, trying to mask the fury in her voice. She took a few deep breaths and willed her heart beat to stop racing.

"No."

"Are you only saying that to keep me out?"

"Just go away!"

Helen slowly opened the door and caught sight of her daughter piling on makeup over her face. She only had one cheek covered completely, and Helen could tell by the reflection she saw in the mirror the untouched side of her face was pretty brutal.

She rushed to her daughters side and took the makeup out of her hand, fingers going up to gently clutch Ashley's chin so she could get a better look at her wounds.

"I told you to go away. What part of that do you not understand, mother?" Ashley asked through clenched teeth, partly due to the stinging she experienced when Helen dabbed at one of her cuts with a tissue.

"I will not tolerate you talking to me like that, do you understand?" Ashley made no reply but did not attempt to move away either. "Now, what kind of mess did you get yourself into?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, Ashley, it does."

"No, _mother_, it doesn't."

Helen dropped her hand from Ashley's face and cast her daughter a glare. "You could have gotten killed. What if that had happened? I had no idea where you were or what you were doing, and now you return home to me and you're in utterly terrible shape!" She paused, taking a breath and releasing it. "No matter how much you hate me, I would like to know where you're going from now on. Do you understand?"

"You know what?" Ashley asked, her voice high and strained as she backed away. "I don't need to tell you anything! God, you couldn't tell me that you slept around with your patients a hundred years ago, and now, I'm the daughter of a legendary serial killer! Or didn't you hear?"

And there it was, the tension hanging in the air finally summed up in what Ashley had previously decided to keep to herself. Tears stung at Helen's eyes as she watched her daughter from the distance between them.

"That isn't fair, Ashley—"

"What isn't _fair_ is you not telling me, mom! What isn't _fair_ is you lying to me! I thought my father was _dead_. Not only is he alive, but he's a fucking nutcase!"

"Watch your mouth!" Helen cried, storming over to her daughter. "And it's not as if I didn't have reason for not telling you—_good _reason. Can you imagine what that would have done to you growing up, knowing that your father was Jack the Ripper from century ago murders? Knowing the kind of mentality he may have genetically gave to you? I didn't want you to live with that, Ashley. _I_ couldn't live with it." She paused, concentrating on her daughter. "I love you, Ashley. I want the best for you, you must know that. If I had thought telling you the truth would benefit you in any way, I would have."

"So what else have you been hiding from me? Have you been slipping something into my cereal since I was a kid to make sure that I don't go all serial killer on you?" she asked, half-joking.

"Nothing! That's it. I've been honest with you on every other account. That I can promise you."

"Do you know what he told me?" Ashley sneered, closing the remaining distance between them and looking straight into her mother's watery eyes. "The night I found out who he was…he told me he's been wandering the world looking for us for the last century, living a miserable life. He also told me that the reason he went psychotic is because of you, mom. _You_. So since you're all honest with me now, tell me if this is true!"

And the tears spilled over. It was inevitable, she figured, because the emotions welling up inside of her were more potent than her self-control. Helen gasped for air as a sob overtook her, the memories of first so much happiness, love, and contentment with John. The night she'd given him her blood and he'd seemingly made such a fast recovery, only to fall in love with her shortly after and capture her heart in passionate vehemence. But those memories grew dark, shattering her heart in unfixable pieces. Such passion that grew into pure hatred as _her_ blood became conflicted in his body and obscured the good in his heart.

She nodded, ashamed, wanting to explain everything to her daughter but knowing that Ashley, as obstinate (if not more) than she was, wouldn't fully understand.

Ashley's face grew twisted, tightened and full of hatred. She turned briskly on her heel and gathered up her duffel bag, groaning in pain in the process.

"You're hurt," Helen whispered, watching as her daughter clutched her arm.

She didn't respond, just began piling clothing and personal items into the duffel.

"Ashley, don't do this. I need to explain things to you, need to tell you the whole story so you can better understand all of this."

"No, Mom!" she cried, turning towards her in a fiery fury, face dark and enraged. "I need to leave."

A sob escaped from Helen's lips as she took a few steps towards Ashley.

"You don't have to, please. Please stay, don't do this. I love you so much, Ashley. If you leave I…I don't know what I'll do. The reason I decided to bring you into this world was out of my loneliness and need for a companion—a daughter—someone to love and to care for. You filled my heart, Ashley, when it was broken. I don't think you understand how much you mean to me."

"If you really loved me, mum," she mumbled over her shoulder, zipping up her bag, "you would have told me as soon as I was old enough to understand." She threw the bag over her shoulder despite the ache that it shot through her body. For some reason, the pain seemed to lose its distinction as it blended and formed into more and more anger; it fueled the hatred in the pit of her stomach.

Tears streamed down Helen's face as she watched her gather up her belongings and begin to make her exit. She reached for her arm and grasped it lightly before Ashley brushed her away and headed for the door.

"Ashley!" Helen cried.

The younger woman stopped for a moment in the doorway, turned around and looked at her with nothing but bitterness and hatred in her eyes.

"Goodbye."

Helmet in hand and bag over her shoulder, Ashley left.

Defeated and spent, Helen dropped herself onto the bed and let the tears continue to roll down her face. She stared blankly at the doorway, immediately dismissing the urge to go after her daughter. It was a fight that she wouldn't win yet, and probably never would. If Ashley ever came to understand, it would be on her own time and after she had found her own way of dealing with her feelings.

She sat there for several minutes, the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life outside the window stirring her from her thoughts. Seconds later, following the retreating sound of the bike, there was a figure in the doorway.

Will.

He slowly approached, having never seen the strong, indestructible Helen Magnus in her current condition, he wasn't sure how to handle her. The last thing he wanted to do was make matters worse, although as Helen held in a sob, he wasn't sure that was even possible.

"We'll find her," Will offered, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

"No we won't. We're not going to look for her," she replied, reaching up and wiping away some of the wetness from her face.

"We're not?" Will asked, surprised.

"No. She needs…" Helen bit her lip, wishing with every ounce of her body that she could stop the tears from cascading down her cheeks. "She needs to be alone. She has every right to be mad at me, but I worry that the news of all this is causing some latent bitterness within her to arise."

"Some emotions that could have been given to her by Druitt, you mean."

"Yes. She's always been short-tempered and curt at times, but I fear those behaviors will only evolve in the coming days." She stopped, wiping away more tears with the back of her hand. "The truth is, it was always an apprehension that she inherited more from her father than I can tame and cultivate."

"Ashley's got a good head on her shoulders despite it all," Will said, gazing at the broken woman beside him. Instinctively, seeing her wipe at her tears, he reached for her hand and gently removed it from her face. "You know, it's okay to cry sometimes." He offered her a smile which she tried to return, but the hint of a smile rapidly grew into another series of sobs.

"She hates me so much right now," she cried. "I just wish she would, if anything, come to realize how much I love her. I need her to know that."

Will was at a loss for any more words. While he was an expert at understanding those around him and observing things anyone else may not notice, offering comforting words had never been a specialty of his.

Finally, after listening to her cries and watching her shoulders shudder, Will took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around her. Much to his surprise, she accepted it without hesitation and buried her head into his shoulder, her reservation stripped away as muffled sobs echoed throughout the room.

* * * * *

In a dark alley, in a most wretched area of the Old City, the stillness of the night was coldly interrupted by an unnatural flash of light and gust of wind, the likes of which brought an unwelcomed being to the scene. He glanced back and forth down the alleyway, and when found no witness, turned and began a brisk walk. He stopped abruptly when sensing almost intuitively a presence nearby, changed his direction and headed toward the opposite end of the alley.

It was a perfect night to pay his own flesh and blood a visit.

* *

Thanks to those of you who are following this! It means a lot to me. Chapter three will be up within the next couple of days.


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